Olivia seemed to be watching her closely.

Grace gave a beleaguered sigh. “There’s more, isn’t there.” She could feel it coming.

Olivia nodded. “Will told Mom he was moving back to Cedar Cove.”

Grace stared at her in horrified silence. “You’ve got to be kidding! What about his job?”

“He’s retired now and seems to be at loose ends.”

Grace closed her eyes. The last time Will came to town had been a disaster. This was shortly after she’d broken off the relationship. He’d insisted she didn’t know what she was doing and that he loved her. At one point, Cliff had stepped in and, in a fit of anger and jealousy, Will had taken a swing at him. It’d been a dreadful scene, a public spectacle, with Will threatening to press charges. Thankfully Olivia had witnessed the episode and made it clear that Will didn’t stand a chance of having any charges stick.

“I’m worried,” Olivia said.

“About me and Cliff?” Grace asked and made a weak dismissive gesture with her hand. “Don’t be.”

“No,” Olivia told her. “I’m concerned about Will. Mom is, too. She suggested he rethink this move. It’s too drastic, especially so soon after the divorce. He needs to stay where he is. And…”

Olivia hesitated and took a deep breath. “What bothers me more than anything is that my brother, who can be as clueless as a Keystone Cop, might assume you’re still available.”

“Will knows I’m married.” She remembered that Olivia had expressly told him.

“He knows, all right,” Olivia said. “But a little thing like a wedding band, including the one on his finger, hasn’t stopped him before. He might have the mistaken impression that it won’t stop you, either.”

Grace swallowed. “Then I’ll just have to tell him.” Cliff would be happy to oblige in that regard, too; however, she had every intention of keeping the two men away from each other.

Thirty-Five

The first time Anson Butler kissed Allison Cox was last October, after a Friday-night football game. Instead of attending the Homecoming dance, they’d sat in the bleachers and talked long after everyone else had left. Allison remembered that kiss as clearly as if it’d just happened. She’d had boyfriends before and had dated a jock while she was a junior. Clay was a really nice guy, popular and funny, but his interests were limited and they didn’t have much in common. They broke up shortly after the prom.

Anson was different. They’d had a couple of classes together the year before, but she hadn’t really noticed him until this year, when they sat across from each other in French. His language skills were impressive, and he seemed to catch on faster than anyone else. Allison hated the way he’d downplayed his abilities and made light of his intelligence. Thinking back, she decided it was his sense of humor, unexpectedly wry, that had initially attracted her.

Sitting in the bleachers now, in the same row as she had during that first kiss, Allison closed her eyes and tried to recapture the exciting sensations she’d experienced that night.

It’d been really cold, she recalled, and the lights on the field were off. Clouds scudding across the sky had frequently obscured the full moon; the intermittent darkness had given them a feeling of seclusion, of privacy. Anson wore his long black coat with a knit stocking cap pulled down over his ears. He didn’t wear gloves and his hands had been cold to the touch. Unlike him, Allison was bundled up head to foot in a red coat and scarf, hat, mittens and boots with wool socks.

They sat huddled together against the wind. The music spilled faintly from the gym, where everyone was dancing. He’d ditched his friends and she had hers.

Anson had amused her that night, speaking in French, making up words. She’d laughed at something he’d said and then, for no reason, they weren’t laughing anymore. Anson had leaned forward to kiss her, hesitant, as if waiting for Allison to stop him. All she could do was hope that he wouldn’t stop. When their lips met, his were cold and chapped. Hers were warm and moist, and she parted them slightly, wanting him to know how glad she was to receive his kiss.

The moment was perfect. Afterward, they’d stared at each other for a long time, and then Anson had said that kissing her was even better than he’d expected. For her, too.

Her phone rang, jolting Allison out of those comforting memories. She snapped open her cell and saw that he was right on time. “Anson?” she whispered.

“I’m here. You got the message from Shaw?”

She nodded. His friend had called the night before and told her Anson would phone at nine. That was all he said, then he’d simply cut off the connection. “He seems to enjoy playing courier.”

“Shaw’s a good friend,” he said.

“I know,” she said. “Oh, Anson, I miss you so much.” She tried to keep the emotion out of her voice, but she’d had some bad news and was struggling to hold it in. The last thing Anson needed was her dissolving into tears over a matter that didn’t involve him. There was nothing he could do.

“How was graduation?” he asked.

“All right. I wish you were there. The rose was beautiful. Thank you so much for that, and the message, too.” Her faith in him might have wavered, but Anson continued to love her.

“You talked to the sheriff?” he asked, getting directly to the point. “About the information Shaw gave you?”

“Yes. I told my father and we went in to see the sheriff on Monday.” This next part shouldn’t come as any surprise, so she drew in a deep breath. “Sheriff Davis wants to talk to you.”

Anson snickered. “Sure he does.”

“Anson, you can’t stay in hiding for the rest of your life!”

The returning silence rang like an alarm between them.

“I tried,” he finally said.

“You tried?” she repeated. “What do you mean?”

“I phoned the sheriff.”

“You talked to Sheriff Davis?” This was wonderful news, but no one had said a word to her. “I didn’t know, I thought—”

“No, I didn’t talk to him,” Anson said. “I tried to talk to him. He wasn’t there. I asked when he’d be available and I got this runaround. No one seemed to be able to tell me.”

Allison found that difficult to believe, until she remembered overhearing a conversation between her parents. “Oh, I can explain. His wife died recently. You must’ve phoned at that time.”

“What happened to his wife?”

“I’m not sure exactly, but Mom said she’d been sick for years.” It all made sense now. “He took some time off after the funeral.” She was encouraged by Anson’s effort. “Try again, okay?”

Anson seemed to consider her suggestion. “Maybe I will.”

“You didn’t tell the people at the sheriff’s office who you were—did you?” She felt positive he would’ve received more cooperation if he’d identified himself.

“No…The only person I want to talk to is the sheriff himself.”

“Well. I know he’s back in the office. My dad mentioned it last night.”

“Okay.”

All at once there didn’t seem to be anything more to say. “Thank you for the rose,” she said again. Allison had pressed it between the pages of a thick book, wanting to save it forever. The card, too.

“I’d’ve given anything to be with you.”

“I know.”

Some unidentifiable noise drifted into the background, and she wondered where Anson was. “I should go,” he murmured.

“Are you taking care of yourself?” she asked.

“I’m doing all right. What about you?”

“I’m okay.”

“Just okay?” he asked.

She was silent for a moment. “Do you know where I am, Anson?” Of course he didn’t. “The football field,” she told him.

“In the bleachers?”

She smiled, holding the small phone close to her ear. “And do you know why this spot is so special to me?”

“It’s where I kissed you the first time.”

He did remember.

“All I could think about that night was kissing you. You looked so pretty. Your cheeks were rosy with the cold and you wore this bright red coat…. I figured you could go with any guy you wanted and yet you were with me.”

“Don’t,” she said, her throat tightening.

“Don’t?”

“If you keep on talking like that, I might start to cry.” She tried for a humorous approach. “I look terrible when I cry.”

“I wish I could kiss you right now.”

“Me, too.” It was at this point that she lost her composure. “Oh, Anson. I can’t go on like this.”

He didn’t speak right away; when he did, his voice was low and harsh. “You’re all I think about. That’s what gets me through each day. I don’t know where I’d be now if it wasn’t for you. Just remember that, okay? No matter what happens about this fire or anything else, just remember you’re the best thing in my life.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“I realize you don’t know if you can trust me,” he said. “But for my sake try. Please, Allison, try.”

“I will.”

“There’s something else bothering you.”

She was surprised he’d noticed. “Don’t worry about me.”

“What is it?” Anson asked.

“It has nothing to do with you or the fire or anything.”

“Tell me,” he insisted.

She couldn’t hold back a sob. “Remember my friend Cecilia?”

“The woman who works for your dad?”

“Worked,” she corrected, and swiped at the tears that ran down her cheeks. “She’s moving. Her husband’s in the navy, and he was transferred and she’s moving to San Diego.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why do the people I love best all go away?”

“Allison…”

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. You have enough worries—you don’t need to hear that.”

“I love you.”

The tears were coming in full force now. “I know.”

“Tell me about Cecilia,” he said. He seemed to understand how badly she wanted to talk to someone about this loss.

“She’s been such a good friend to me. She’s like the older sister I never had. You probably don’t remember what I was like when my parents divorced, but I went through a really dark period.” She sobbed again. No one else knew this next part. No one, not even Cecilia.

“Go on,” he said softly.

“She told me what it was like when her parents split up. I didn’t want to hear it and tried to block out everything she said. As much as possible I made her life miserable.

“Then one afternoon I came into the break room and found her by herself and she was crying. She didn’t want me to see, but I could tell she was looking at a picture. When I had the chance, I got into her purse and took out the picture.” If anyone had caught her, she would’ve been in serious trouble. “The photo was of her little girl who died. Later I learned she’d named her baby Allison, and that was one of the reasons she felt so close to me.”